Dat Ass
by Kaira Sakamoto
Summary: M!Hawke, being a mage, must stay in the back of the group while Fenris takes the lead. Because of this, Hawke has a wonderful view of a delicious backside...and doesn't know what to do about it. Rated for language and minor sexual content.


A/N: Originally for a prompt on the Dragon Age II Kinkmeme.

Prompt being:

_Anon has been playing standard-look male mage Hawke, whom anon obviously can't send running into battle first, so anon has been letting Fenris lead the party. This led to the following little snippet forming in anon's head:_

Being a fragile mage who had to stay at the back of the group had its advantages, Hawke thought. The permanent view of Fenris's arse, for a start.

That elf, those leggings and _that arse_ are going to be the death of him, and Garrett Hawke knows it very well. Unfortunately the thought of his death doesn't seem to stop his eyes from glueing themselves to that place, over and over, watching the muscles bunch and -

Once again, he tears his eyes away desperately, his hand clenching convulsively around the metal of his father's old staff, but the image is burning, shining like a beacon in his brain, surrounded by halos and _hallelujahs_ from the Maker. Garrett tries not to think about it; tries and tries and tries, but his face only grows a brighter shade of red, his pants tighter (oh thank the _Maker_ that he is wearing robes for once...or maybe not! Looks like it doesn't hide everything...) He can imagine grasping that arse with both large hands, rubbing and kneading and pressing their fronts together, or maybe pressing just _his_ front against that delectable backside, rocking and thrusting into that tight -

_Enough, that's it, no more!_ He abruptly covers his eyes with his free hand, shutting those honey browns tightly enough to hurt. _I will not think of the sexy, glowy elf_, he thinks. Maybe if he repeats it often enough in his mind, it will be true.

_And maybe_, he continues, tripping over both stone and tree root, _it'll be true when Isabela vows herself to the Maker as a Sister._ Garrett hears her snickers on his right, echoed by Varric's chuckling on his left, and there is a growing part of him (_no, not his penis, thank-you-very-much!_) that wants to steal Fenris' sword (_stop thinking about that, damnit_) and cut the two of them into itty bitty pieces to throw over a cliff. He may be a mage but he knows how to use a sword (_not as well as Fen - damnit! Shut it!_).

"Having trouble, Hawke?" teases Varric, and Garrett, wrenching his hand away from his eyes, lets loose a low hiss at the dwarf and glares. If he were a cat his fur would be fluffed, back arched sharply and claws unsheathed. (_Anders, there are times when I hate you,_ he sulks privately. _When I compare myself to a cat is one of those times. Your influence sucks and not in the good way. Speaking of sucking...NO._)

"I don't think he's having much trouble _at all_," pipes in Isabela, eyeing his crotch and Garrett flushes all over again. The dwarf snickers, louder than before, and the mage is horrified to see Fenris turning his head to look suspiciously at the three of them behind him. _Oh Maker don't let him notice,_ he pleads, looking at the sky. _Think of Gamlen and the time you caught him slobbering all over those whores and it's_ not working _damnit_!

"Don't worry, hon," Isabela stage whispers to him, and Garrett tries not to notice that Fenris' pointed ears are twitching slightly and what that could mean. "I imagine him in his undergarments all the time. I'd be willing to share should I ever get him between the sheets and gloriously -"

"Thank you but _no thank you_, Isabela," he bites out, his eyes once again drawn to that backside at the thought of the elf in only his undergarments. Peeling those undergarments off... _I'm just as bad as she is. Maybe I should become a Brother?_ he thinks as his attention trails from his ass to the backs of his thighs and calves and even those adorably tattooed feet -

"It's official," Hawke sighs wistfully to himself. "I am so lost." This sends Isabela and Varric into a peal of poorly hidden laughter at the mage's expense.

And, because his back is facing them, they do not notice Fenris' lips tilting up in a smirk, or the way his moss-colored eyes glint in a sign that says _mission accomplished._


End file.
